


On The Flip Side

by Romwaeta



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: AGAIN TW FOR SELF HARM, Heavy Angst, Just angst, Lena angst, Self Harm, im sorry, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:28:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28332408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romwaeta/pseuds/Romwaeta
Summary: She thinks its funny how people can be so drastically different. She’s tired.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	On The Flip Side

**Author's Note:**

> — I DO NOT CONDONE SELF HARM —  
> right off the bat, this is a vent piece and i really needed to express myself. if you ever feel this way /please/ seek help
> 
> you matter

_Catch you on the flip side!_

It was a funny figure of speech to Lena. First of all, it made no sense. There wasn’t an alternate reality one could just escape to. Lena knew- because if there was, she would have been desperately searching for one where things were normal.

Yet, at the same time, it clicked into place and made perfect sense. It was like a duality. Lena knew she had the wrong definition; something Harry- or whatever the red one’s name was- would berate her for. But to her; it felt like catching someone at the opposite end of a spectrum.

Happiness was something Lena had hardly ever known. She only knew how to explain it. The way the room felt warm with kindness, the way her chest thundered in a way that didn’t strike fear into her heart. Happiness was simply _being_ in the light. Just feeling. Being there, without existential dread soaking into the moment.

But on the flip side…

Lena would lay awake at night, eyes trained towards the mold encrusted ceiling of the old abandoned amphitheater’s prop room. It would be dark- it always was- the gentle hum of the blue light bulb being the only noise that leaked into her thoughts. The inky darkness- the _bad thoughts_ would swarm her head.

Just as they did in the moment.

She could feel the way her chest would tighten, how she felt hollow and empty. The girl could clasp her fingers around the fleeting feeling of _happiness_ \- the light in her darkness.

Lena didn’t like the darkness.

Her throat felt dry and tight, and she could choke on her own emotions if she wanted to. Warmth pooled beneath her cheeks as the subconscious realization that _she was crying_ flashed into her mind. Lena clutched her blankets tighter, in desperate hope that they’d replace the cold emptiness she felt inside. 

Lena didn’t quite know how to describe this feeling. She felt silent and small, a cold tremor shaking through her body. She could suck in air, but it felt like nothing was happening. The world felt sluggish and dim- all while feeling too overwhelmed at the same time.

She felt small, and meaningless.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the shadow hunched over her. Clawed fingers extended, threatening to wrap around her and choke her until the darkness won against the light, and Lena would be gone to the depths of obscurity.

What scared the teen the most; she didn’t care.

She could hear Magica’s angered screams in her ear, but she just didn’t care. Magica could destroy her, tear apart her body, and leave nothing in her wake.

But Lena couldn’t find it within herself to care.

She wanted to die, but couldn’t find the motivation in herself to act on that.

In the distance of the room, the teen could make out a pair of scissors- glistening with taunting menace in the blue light. She could hear its whispers- calling to her.

She didn’t want to give in… yet at the same time, she did.

What would Webby say about all this? Would she be mad? Lena shook her head. Webby deserved better- what was the point of living if her existence was only being used as a puppet. Her death would benefit Webby.

It would bring Lena that warmth that she craved, the warmth and joy- the expression of her emotions that had been pushed so far down.

Maybe tonight she wouldn’t depart. But she could start… she could push those feelings out, little by little. 

Lena didn’t realize how she had already made her way to her sorry excuse for a nightstand, scissors in hand as her eyes met her own in the reflection.

She felt no remorse as the cold blade pressed against her wrist, and with as much pressure as the teen could muster, she pulled along.

The crimson that beaded and dripped onto the table shouldn’t have brought the warmth, it shouldn’t have brought her happiness.

But it did.

And she hated that she liked this.


End file.
